Early that morning, before the outer doors were opened, five women of the Congressional Union appeared before the Capitol. After a long wait the doors were opened, and—the first of a big crowd—they placed themselves in the front row of the gallery just to the left of the big clock. They faced the Speaker’s desk, from which the President would read his message. These five women were: Mrs. John Rogers, Jr.; Mrs. Harry Lowenburg; Dr. Caroline Spencer; Florence Bayard Hilles; Mabel Vernon. In a casual manner, other members of the Union seated themselves behind them and on the gallery steps beside them: Lucy Burns; Elizabeth Papandre; Mildred Gilbert; Mrs. William L. Colt; Mrs. Townsend Scott.
Mabel Vernon sat in the middle of the five women in the front row. Pinned to her skirt, under the enveloping cape which she wore, was a big banner of yellow sateen. After the five women had settled themselves, Mabel Vernon unpinned the banner and dropped it, all ready for unrolling, on the floor. At the top of the banner were five long tapes—too long—Mabel Vernon now regretfully declares. At the psychological moment, which had been picked beforehand, in President Wilson’s speech—he was recommending a greater freedom for the Porto Rican men—Mabel Vernon whispered the series of signals which had previously been decided on. Immediately—working like a beautifully co-ordinated machine—the five women stooped, lifted the banner, and, holding it tightly by the tapes, dropped it over the balcony edge. It unrolled with a smart snap and displayed these words:
MR. PRESIDENT, WHAT WILL YOU DO FOR WOMAN SUFFRAGE?
Then the women sat perfectly still, in the words of the Washington Post “five demure and unruffled women ... with the cords supporting the fluttering thing clenched in their hands.”
The effect was instantaneous. The President looked up, hesitated a moment, then went on reading. All the Congressmen turned. The Speaker sat motionless. A buzz ran wildly across the floor. Policemen and guards headed upstairs to the gallery where the women were seated; but their progress was inevitably slow as the steps were tightly packed with members of the Congressional Union. In the meantime, one of the pages, leaping upward, caught the banner and tore it away from the cords in the women’s hands. “If it hadn’t been for those long tapes,” Mabel Vernon says, “they never could have got it until the President finished his speech.”
The episode took up less than five minutes’ time. Until the President finished his message, it seemed to be completely forgotten. But the instant the President with his escort disappeared through the door, every Congressman was on his feet staring up at the gallery.
The Woman’s Party publicity accounts of this episode—multigraphed the night before—were in the hands of the men in the Press Gallery the instant after it happened. This is a sample of the perfect organization and execution of the Woman’s Party plans.
Of course, this incident was a front page story in every newspaper in the United States that night despoiling the President of his headlines. It is now one of the legends in Washington that in the midst of the dinner given to the President by the Gridiron Club shortly after, the identical banner was unfurled before his eyes.
The following week, at the first meeting of the Judiciary Committee since the Presidential Campaign, the report of the Federal Suffrage Amendment was made without recommendation to the House of Representatives.